


Certain Talents

by ezjayce



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, pretty much a drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:38:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ezjayce/pseuds/ezjayce
Summary: A brief look into what Danse and Deacon tend to excel at.





	Certain Talents

**Author's Note:**

> a birthday gift for my dear friend des, about the rarepair that made us so close, written much too quickly and hardly proofread at all. love youuuuu~

Nearly everything about Danse is _rough_ and lacking in a tender sort of grace.

Of course this is true in the sense of his physical features: his hands are calloused, his muscles are thick, toned, often covered in a smattering of dark hair, and his stubble too scratchy-- but it manifests in his actions as well. The way he shoves Deacon against their living room wall with just a touch too much strength, the way his hands _push_ against Deacon but _pull_ at his clothes so hard they nearly rip, the way his kisses turn to bites that surely bruise Deacon's lips, jaw, neck, collarbone... Well, just about everywhere he can reach.

And of course he's hasty and impatient, the man is all _now, now, now,_ without much (or sometimes any) foreplay at all. Not that Deacon can really bring himself to complain between his constant chatter and rambling about nothing in particular. Although, it's much more akin to whines and heavy sighs by the time Danse has his hand in the front of Deacon's tight jeans. Now, should Danse actually possess a mere _ounce_ more self control than he actually does, he could go no further than simply stroking and kissing Deacon until he comes.

But as the both of them know all too well by now, that extra little bit just doesn't exist.

In reality, while one hand makes short work of Deacon's button and fly, the other roams nonstop. Down Deacon's neck, chest, and stomach; then around his hip to lift one of Deacon's legs to wrap around Danse's thighs; then _grab_  his ass so roughly that the action alone draws a yelp from Deacon. Although it hardly compares to the filthy sound that rips from his throat when Danse withdraws his hand _just_  far enough to return hard and fast with a loud _smack_. Deacon is helpless under that touch and he _knows_ it, knows that's precisely what Danse craves, and about all he can do in the moment is grip the back of Danse's shirt, tip his head back, and _groan_. The technique of Danse's hand on his cock is fairly sloppy-- but what he lacks in experience a certain _finesse_ , the man more than makes up for in eagerness and determination.

His mix of cleverness and fixation on _pleasing_ Deacon might as well be lethal to the poor man, Danse is so unnaturally attuned to each and every reaction he draws out of Deacon that he most likely knew most, if not _all_ , of Deacon's more... _favoured_ techniques by their 3rd or 4th time together. And god, don't even get Deacon started on the roughness of his fingers and palms or the low growls that rumble from Danse's throat when he particularly likes a reaction he gets from Deacon. It always seems as though each and every little thing he loves has combined into this paladin-shaped perfect storm of _things that that have him coming in minutes,_ if not _seconds,_ depending on what exactly Danse does _before_ putting his hand on Deacon's cock.

They've barely reached the _minutes_ threshold when Deacon is bucking his hips upward and coming with a near-silent shudder, surely brought on more quickly by the dark hickey Danse is currently sucking into Deacon's pale neck. As he catches his breath, he's sure Danse _would_ be smug and proud of himself-- if he weren't still preoccupied with kissing Deacon's neck and stroking him until Deacon can bring himself to sigh out a weak _'gimme a minute'_  and push Danse's hand away. Because knowing Paladin Danse, this would be _far_ from the end of their evening, and he couldn't exhaust himself immediately.

* * *

Nearly _everything_ Deacon does with his mouth is extremely distracting.

From his apparently nonstop chatter, to his gnawing through pencils, to chainsmoking throughout the day, to... well, things Danse can't _help_ but be distracted by. The way Deacon sucks dark hickeys into his collarbone or trails bite marks down his chest and abdomen, for example. His kisses alone are often more than enough to leave Danse craving _more_ , so of course anything further (namely Deacon's wandering hands, teasing nips at his neck, and pleading _'c'mon Danse, take a break, it'll be quick'_ ) can easily grab his undivided attention. And from then on out it's extremely easy to keep his chair turned away from his desk and his thoughts from wandering back to his work.

While his hands are deft and quick with removing Danse's shirt, spreading his knees, and undoing the front of his pants, it's truly Deacon's _mouth_ that has all the technique and skill to keep Danse's focus _completely_ on him. He surely leaves countless hickeys and bites across Danse's body, but none of it is even _close_ to satisfying, not until he gets to the _main event_ that Danse knows well is sure to come-- regardless of how long it takes Deacon to get around to it. He's so damn _slow_ and _relaxed_ and **_teasing_** that Danse can feel the frustration rising in his chest almost as quickly as the arousal burns low in his belly. 

He just wants Deacon to _get on with it,_ a phrase he snarls much more than once before his mouth is where Danse wants-- _needs_ it to be. 

But once Danse finally, _finally_ feels his warm mouth around his cock he's fucking up into Deacon's mouth, eagerly gripping his hair and rocking his hips up into that _delicious_ heat. It's only mere moments before Danse distantly realizes that Deacon's head is completely still under his grip-- and he'd be concerned if he couldn't feel Deacon humming contently and _massaging_ Danse's thighs like that. But he can, and he knows that _strangely enough_ Deacon seems to enjoy this sort of thing a great deal, even though Danse is doing most of the work by thrusting his hips upward from his chair and into Deacon's mouth. So much for _taking a break_.

While Deacon certainly tries to keep things slow and teasing, it takes Danse much less time than either of them expect to toss his head back with a shout and come _hard_ into deacon's mouth, his hands still gripping his hair and hips still rolling lazily upwards as he slowly comes down from it. And of course, Deacon looks so much more satisfied with the results than Danse does, as he very frequently is-- and Danse can't help but smile and chuckle fondly as he ruffles Deacon's hair, mumbling that he's _bizarre_ and _much too skilled for his own good_.

_Like always._


End file.
